


For the Love of (Touch)

by SoManyJacks



Series: For the Love of (  ) [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Angst, Drinking, M/M, Touch-Starved, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7887016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyJacks/pseuds/SoManyJacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull takes Dorian back to his room for a few drinks, but the night gets away from him. Turns out he'll have to play by Dorian's rules if he wants to get anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Love of (Touch)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to [For the Love of (Money).](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6356203)

They go back to Bull’s room, that first night. Polish off a couple of bottles of wine so terrible even Bull knows it’s bad. But it’s fun. Dorian is funny, in a biting kind of way, and whip-smart to boot. Bull’s never spent time just the two of them. He thought it might be difficult, that he might have to pull out the charm, put Dorian at ease, but he doesn’t.

So they laugh and gossip. Dorian knows a surprising amount of dirt on the folks around Skyhold, stuff not even Bull knows. “Wait, you’re telling me that Red has a soft spot for nugs? Leliana? Fucking ruthless Sister Nightingale? Are you _sure?”_

“Absolutely,” Dorian says, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. “Has cutesy names for them and everything.”

“You shitting me?”

“I swear by my worthless family name, Bull.” Dorian holds a hand over his heart.

Bull sees the way his gaze slips, skittering over the expanse of Bull’s chest. Fourth time that night it’s happened. Not that Bull is counting.

Bull is totally counting.

“See something you like?” He laughs, but only a little.

“What?” Dorian's head snaps up. “Oh, my apologies,” he says, drawing his hand over his eyes in an almost perfect display of tipsy fatigue. “I’m simply tired.”

Bull wonders how many times he’s used that line. It’s good cover. If they’d been in a bar or something, Bull might’ve bought it. But he’s been watching Dorian like a hawk: the way his smile flags, like he can’t hold on to the laughter; the way he looks to the side to deliver his punchlines, the cord of his neck holding too much tension. So Bull doesn’t press. “How you know all this stuff anyway?”

Dorian gives him a long look as he takes an even longer pull from the bottle, finishing it off. “I find it in my best interests to know which members of the Inquisition are less than enamored of my presence. There’s only so many times one can be accosted in dark corners. My barriers are effective enough against unarmed attacks, but sooner or later someone will decide a more permanent solution is called for, and daggers are ever so easy to hide. A little magic to eavesdrop lets me know who to avoid.” His teeth glint in a smile that might as well be a rictus.

Bull splutters into his own bottle. “Fucking hell, Dorian. You’ve been attacked?”

“It’s nothing, I assure you,” he says, waving Bull off. “I can take care of myself.” His eyes snag on Bull’s collarbone again.

“You tell Cadash?”

“She’s got enough to worry about,” Dorian insists.

“Fuuuuck,” Bull sighs, flopping back in his chair. “You’re not gonna let me help, are you?”

Dorian smirks, and there’s something there Bull thinks he recognizes. “Well, perhaps there is one thing you can do for me.” He rises, unwinding from the chair with serpentine grace, holding Bull’s gaze. With the same sinuous movement, he stalks over to Bull’s chair and kneels between his legs.

Bull’s eyebrows shoot up. The night just took a sharp turn. Not that Bull minded, especially, but things were moving fast, even for him. “Uh, you sure?”

“Quite.” The candlelight does something pretty fucking incredible to Dorian's skin, Bull decides. And his eyes. And those lips, which are currently ghosting over the fabric of Bull’s trousers, along his inner thigh.

Bull is already half-hard, and when Dorian's eyes flash up, he gets most of the rest of the way. Fuck, he’s hot like this.

Dorian reaches for the drawstring on Bull’s pants, moving his hand slow enough that Bull could stop him. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, and Dorian gives a firm tug on the cord. The fabric loosens, and Dorian frees his cock. With an appreciative murmur, Dorian gives him a few strokes.

Bull groans. “Shit,” he breathes. “That’s good.”

“I think I can make it better,” Dorian purrs, right before his tongue darts out to lick.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Bull grunts. He grips the arms on his chair, fingers digging into the wood.

One of Dorian's hands is on Bull, but the other is making short work of his own buckles and fastenings. In a second he’s got his own cock out, kneading his frenulum.

Bull’s almost paralyzed with lust. Dorian's sucking in earnest now, slurping and making these little grunts of effort. In a seamless move he comes up for air and licks his hand, slicking up his cock before going back to work on Bull with his mouth.

The whole thing is so hot, so unexpected, that Bull’s riding the edge in a frighteningly short time. “Fuck, I’m close,” he groans, putting a gentle hand on the back of Dorian's neck.

Dorian moans in encouragement, sucking harder, his hand moving faster. Bull’s hips hitch up as he empties himself into Dorian's mouth.

He crumples back into the chair, boneless. Dorian's no longer sucking, but his face is buried against Bull’s inner thigh. The sounds of his hand slicking over his cock are clearly audible, and he huffs, panting against Bull’s crotch. With a strangled, nearly-silent moan, he shudders, hips bucking in release.

For a second, he catches his breath. Bull’s still kinda loopy from his own orgasm, but Dorian's eyes are a little wet when he pulls back. Hard to tell for sure; he pulls a handkerchief from somewhere, wiping his face and mouth, then leaning over to wipe the floor.

Bull realizes he’s using his kerchief to clean up his own spend. “You don’t have to -”

“It’s no trouble, I insist,” Dorian says, his voice calm, maybe a little tired. He pulls another cloth from his pocket and folds the dirty fabric into it, then tucks it all away and stands up.

His pants are already done up; the only sign of what happened is the fact that his moustache is slightly askew, and Dorian's already straightening it with his fingers. “Well that was bracing,” he says with a faint laugh.

Bull lurches forward, fumbling to stuff his cock back into his pants. “Uh, yeah.” He shakes his head to clear it. “Yeah. Shit, Dorian, anytime you wanna do that again....”

“Stranger things have happened,” Dorian says, looking to the side. “I’ll see you around.”

Bull’s gut is screaming at him that there’s something wrong, but he’s too fuzzy to put his finger on it. All he knows is, he doesn’t want Dorian to go.

But he’s got no excuse to keep him there, and when he moves towards the door, Bull just watches. “Hey,” he calls out, when Dorian has his hand on the latch. “Thanks for....” Bull runs out of words. What the fuck is he supposed to say? Thanks for sucking my dick? Dorian smirks, clearly expecting him to say something dirty.

But Bull doesn’t go there. He doesn't say something dirty precisely because he _feels_ dirty: empty and hollow. And he doesn't wanna feel those things. Making a joke will just make it worse. “Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” he says instead.

The smirk fades when Bull goes off script, and Dorian looks pensive. Probably because Bull’s not making sense; Dorian wasn’t keeping him company -- it was the other way around. “Oh, well. Of course. I'll see you around, Bull.” He opens the door and leaves, not waiting for an answer.

Bull gets up, locks the door. He doesn't want any visitors tonight. “Yeah, see you around,” he says to no one.

The whole damn thing makes Bull itchy as hell. Takes him till morning to realize what it is. It’s that he knows that the blow job wasn’t what he wanted, and he’s pretty sure it wasn’t what Dorian wanted either.

Not from a consent point of view. Hell, Bull _wanted_ it. Lying in bed thinking about how Dorian looked between his legs is enough to get him halfway there again. But given a choice of all available options for sex with Dorian, he would’ve chosen an option that involved a lot more... well, everything.

And he’s not convinced it was what Dorian wanted either. It was so impersonal, so clinical. The way he cleaned up after himself and practically ran out, Bull almost would’ve been insulted. Shit, maybe he should be. Dorian's eyes were a little too wet, more than just blowjob tears. And that little sob he gave at the end... damn, maybe he didn’t want to do it with Bull after all? Maybe it was the Qunari thing, didn’t want to lower himself to being with a savage?

Bull ignores the cold wash of his own reaction to the idea. No. No, that's not it. Much as they joke about it, Dorian doesn’t see him that way. Bull knows when someone doesn’t respect him. It’s something else. He just doesn’t know what, yet. But he will.

All he needs to do is wait and watch.

Easy enough to put himself around Dorian. They’re both stuck in Skyhold while Cadash is in Emprise du Lion. The guy’s pretty set in his habits -- it’s a breeze to figure out his movements. Between asking around and just using his eye, Bull gets the lowdown: breakfast, library, chess with Cullen, library, training, dinner, and either the Rest or his chambers.

So he finds an excuse to see Red, gets a look at Dorian in the library. Couple days later Bull loiters by the training yard while Dorian peppers a training dummy with ice and fire and lightning. Damn, that shouldn’t be so fucking hot. Bull even wanders through the garden, ostensibly to talk to the herbalist about getting some stuff for Stitches, but really so he could watch Dorian play chess with Cullen.

Dorian glances over and sees him watching. His eyebrow quirks.

Bull knows when he’s caught. So he waves and heads over.

“Who’s winning?” Bull grins.

Cullen snorts. “Are we counting cheating? Because if not, I am.”

“Tsk tsk, Commander. You do yourself no honor. I never _cheat.”_  Dorian clucks his tongue.

Bull has the advantage of actually getting to see the effort involved in the flirt on Dorian's part, as well as the effect it has on Cullen, who laughs, low and cynical. “You play by the rules, do you?”

“I’m well aware of the rules, _Commander,”_ Dorian purrs, giving the blond a shadow of a wink.

Cullen takes a deep breath, and only he and Bull know that there’s a little bit of a shudder in it. He looks at Bull and shakes his head. “Is he like this in the field?” He entreats Bull, looking for something like mercy.

“Worse,” Bull says in mock sympathy. “Saw him try to convince a desire demon that Cassandra wasn’t worth its time.”

“Well I wasn’t _wrong,”_ Dorian points out.

Cullen is laughing. “That’s a good point. The Seeker is basically unassailable. I’m not sure she knows the meaning of desire,” Cullen says.

“Oh, don’t know about that, Commander,” Bull drawls. “I think she knows just fine.”

Dorian frowns. He frowns a lot. “And how do _you_ know?”

Bull lets it ride for a good few seconds. “Take it you never slept in a tent next to her and Varric, Sparkler.”

“What??” Cullen laughs. “I should have known.”

Dorian relaxes, and Bull fights a triumphant grin. Jealousy tells him a lot. “Anyway, gotta get going.” To Dorian, he says, “Got another couple bottles. Antivan, if you’re interested.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter one way or another.

“Oh?” Dorian hums, like he’s considering, but the glint in his eye tells Bull all he needs to know.

Sure enough, Dorian knocks on his door later, well after sundown. “It’s open,” Bull calls out.

“So it is,” Dorian smirks when he walks in. “Imagine that.” He takes the cup of wine Bull hands him and settles into one of the chairs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bull eyes him, suspicious.

Dorian brings the wine up to his nose. “I say, this smells almost decent,” he declares, taking an experimental sip.

Bull hates it when people ignore questions like that. He’s just about to say something when Dorian answers him.

“It means that word round the keep is that your doors have been locked as of late. There’s a very disappointed kitchen maid who's been quite vocal about it.” Dorian lifts the glass to his lips.

Bull’s caught off guard. He covers the moment by taking a drink. He should’ve known someone would notice. “Guy can’t take a breather?” he grumbles.

“And this self-imposed celibacy, will it go on much longer, you think?”

Bull leans forward, puts his hand on his knee. “Depends.” He drains his cup, pours another.

“Oh? On what?” Dorian is smirking now.

It should be hot, seeing him all flirty like this. But Bull’s gut is twisting to see it, because the smirk isn’t going all the way to his eyes.

“You.” Bull sits back in his chair.

Dorian grins and gets up. Two steps and he’s between Bull’s legs again, lowering himself to his knees.

“No, that's not -” Bull reaches out and stops him. “Not what I mean,” he says.

Dorian's eyelids flutter; Bull can almost see him doing the internal calculations, wondering what Bull’s gonna ask, whether or not he’s gonna say yes. “What _do_ you mean, then?”

Bull sighs to hear how defensive Dorian is. “I mean, it depends on what _you_ want.”

Pretty clear it’s not what Dorian was expecting. He rears back in surprise, weight settling on his heels. He chuckles, dark and low. “I should think that it’s obvious.”

“Yeah well, maybe it’s not so obvious to me,” Bull says.

Dorian shifts his weight again, further away from Bull, readying himself to flee. He huffs. “What I _want_ is for this to remain uncomplicated.”

“That’s a how, not a what. Doesn’t need to be complicated. Just wanna know what you really like. If it’s rough and ready, like last time, hey, that's fine. But maybe there’s something you want more.” Bull slides his hand up Dorian's arm, swipes his thumb over the exposed skin of his shoulder.

Dorian goes very, very still. His jaw’s working, and his eyes drift down to Bull’s chest. Almost imperceptibly, he leans into Bull’s touch.

That's when Bull gets it. He’s been watching Dorian for a while, and in all that time, no one’s touched him. No handshakes, no claps on the back, no hugs. Probably didn’t get a ton of that in Tevinter, either, not with how fucked up those assholes could be about sex.

Dorian still hasn’t answered him, so Bull throws something out there. “Maybe we could take it a little slower, see if anything strikes your fancy. I got all night, you know.”

“All right,” Dorian says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

Normally, Bull wouldn’t go for that. He likes his partners to be enthusiastic in their consent. But he’s not sure Dorian's capable of that -- he’s too suspicious, playing his cards close to the vest.

He’s also not moving, though whether he’s paralyzed by indecision or something else isn’t clear. Bull brings his hand up higher, cupping the crook of his neck.

Now Dorian does move, leaning into the touch, wincing as his eyes scrunch closed. His lips are parted, his breath audible.

Bull pulls him closer. Dorian's eyes are still closed, and he stumbles forward, his hands coming up automatically to Bull’s shoulders to steady himself. At the contact, he gives this tiny, broken sound, not quite a whimper. It’d be sexy as hell if it wasn’t also heartbreaking.

Dorian's hands rove all across Bull’s shoulders and neck. He’s feeling his way blindly, and Bull wonders if he’s scared to open his eyes.

It’s still not clear if Dorian wants this or not. He’s trembling, pulse beating double-time under Bull’s thumb. Bull knows if he keeps going, Dorian's not gonna fight him, but that's not good enough. “You know,” Bull murmurs. “People need touch. To live.”

“What?” Dorian's eyes fly open in a panic.

“Used to see it when I was an Imekari. Little babies would get sent to the compound, for the Tamassrans to take care of. Elves, mostly, probably born to slaves. If they hadn’t been held enough, they’d just die. The Tamas would take turns holding them all the time, but sometimes it was too late. We never really grow out of it.”

Dorian looks down at him, still confused. Probably ‘cause talking about dead babies isn’t exactly sexy. He blinks a few times, and his face hardens. He jerks out of Bull’s grip. “What is this? Some sort of... remediation? ‘Oh, the poor ‘Vint, he’s so lonely, I must save him.’” Dorian's tone is mocking, but his eyes might as well be Silverite. “I’m not interested in your pity sex, Bull.” He turns and strides to the door, his movements stiff and jerky.

“Please don’t go,” Bull says.

Dorian freezes in place. There’s a long pause. “Why shouldn’t I?” His hand is on the latch.

Fuck, Bull hadn’t thought this through very well. “It’s not pity,” he says. “Not saying I’ve never done that, but I’m not doing it now.”

Dorian's hand falls from the door, and his shoulders square. He turns, just his face. “Then what _are_ you doing?”

It hits Bull that he’s not really sure. Which is bad. Going into it, he’d been pretty certain about what he was doing, but now the _why_ was eluding him. Stick to the basics, he decides. “Look, I wanna have sex with you. Real bad. Can’t stop thinking about it. But I want you to want it, and not hold back. We’re not in Tevinter. And even if we were, I don’t play by those rules. Just saying, you don’t have to either. Feel like you’ve been missing out on some shit, and I wanna give it to you. And if it makes you feel better, hey, that's just an added bonus.”

Dorian turns back around, but his weight doesn’t shift. He’s not going, but he’s not coming back either. The silence goes on so long that Bull thinks he should get up and go over there. But then Dorian talks, addressing the door. “I’m not overly fond of the ‘rules’, as you call them. But they exist for a reason.”

It’s up to Bull to fill in the blanks, but he gets it. As shitty as they are, those rules probably kept Dorian safe for a long time. “Not saying we can’t make our own,” Bull says. “According to Cullen you’ll just break ‘em anyhow,” he grins.

Dorian whirls around, his eyes alight with amused outrage. “Preposterous, I never _cheat.”_

“No? Pretty sure I saw you nudge a pawn when he wasn’t looking.”

Dorian strides back over, his steps sure this time. “I was simply putting it in the center of the tile. It had gotten knocked to the side,” he sniffs. He’s standing between Bull’s knees again, though his arms are crossed indignantly.

“And how on earth did that happen, I wonder?” Bull muses.

Dorian huffs and shifts his weight from one hip to the other, bringing him a little closer. “If you’re implying that I purposely moved my piece to an ambiguous location so that I could alter it later, then I would insist that such statements are worthless slander, and I would demand reparation.”

Bull grins. “Yeah? What kind of reparation?”

One hand settles artfully on Bull’s shoulder, as if picking a piece of lint from his skin. Except there’s no fucking lint, and after a second Dorian gives up the pretense and slides his hand along Bull’s flesh. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

Bull had been hoping they could talk a little more about what Dorian wants, in bald terms. But he’s starting to realize Dorian needs or wants this pretense, this game. As he’s more relaxed than Bull’s seen him all night, the smirk going all the way to his eyes and smoldering there, Bull isn’t gonna object. “Mmm, how about a massage?” Bull offers.

Dorian pointedly looks at Bull’s scarred and disfigured hands and sighs. “Well, you lack the delicate touch to which I’m accustomed, but I suppose it’s a start.”

“Oh, I can be delicate,” Bull growls.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Dorian pops open the clasps on his tunic.

Bull rummages through his trunk for some oil while Dorian strips to his smalls. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, leaning back on one hand, sipping from the cup of wine. When Bull turns around, he stops short. “Damn, that's a pretty picture.”

“Oh?” Dorian raises his eyebrows. He sets down the cup and leans all the way back, resting on his elbows.

Bull wants to abandon the plan and just lick every inch of exposed skin. But that's not the game they’re playing. So he gives an upnod. “On your belly.”

Dorian squirms around to comply. Much as Bull wants to straddle those perfect thighs, he waits. If he starts out on his knees, they’ll give out long before they get to the good stuff. So he sits to the side, oils up his hands, and goes to work on Dorian's shoulders.

There’s a lot of tension. For all that Dorian's a badass in the field, he also spends days on end at a desk. Bull kneads his thumbs between Dorian's shoulder blades. Dorian groans.

“Too much?”

“No, fasta vass, it’s perfect,” Dorian says into the pillow.

“You should stretch more,” Bull says. “In the library.”

“Yes Mother Superior,” Dorian drones dutifully.

Bull pinches the skin at the apex of his upper arm. He expects Dorian to laugh, which he does, breathless. He doesn’t expect it to end in a moan, or for Dorian to surreptitiously grind his hips against the mattress. File _that_ away for later.

For now he goes back to the massage, working out as many knots as he can. Dorian's basically a puddle on the bed within about twenty minutes. Now’s about the time that Bull would shift, maybe turn his attention to the ass currently quivering in its smalls, maybe those fucking delicious thighs that have somehow spread open nice and wide.

On instinct, he reaches up and tickles his fingertips along Dorian's hairline instead. The reaction is immediate and striking: Dorian hisses, arching into the touch, bucking against the bed.

“Mmm, that's what I’m talking about,” Bull says. “Feels good?”

“Fuck,” Dorian gasps. “Don’t stop.”

It would take a dragon attack to get Bull to stop now. He scratches his nails against Dorian's scalp, and he _wails,_ the sound muffled into Bull’s pillow. His hips are grinding circles, fast and tight.

This isn’t exactly what Bull had in mind to get Dorian off, but it’s hot as hell. And who knows, maybe he’s good for another round after. “Fuck, that's so hot, Dorian. Yeah, that's it. Come on. Let go, baby. Come for me.” He brings his other hand up, ghosting over Dorian's ear and nape.

“Oh fuck oh fuck,” Dorian whimpers. Suddenly he raises his hips completely off the bed, his body spasming. A second later Bull sees the wet spot on his smalls.

Bull stops breathing for a second. Did Dorian just ruin his own orgasm? On purpose? Or had he been trying to stop himself and didn’t make it?

Dorian's face is still buried in the pillows, his chest heaving. After a second he rises on to his elbows. He looks a bit groggy, but he’s smiling.

“You all right?” Bull asks, smoothing his hand down Dorian's spine.

“Oh yes. Give me a moment. You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy? I was promised a massage, Bull. And by my reckoning you’re not even halfway finished.” He rears to his knees, shimmying out of his smalls. His cock is still hard.

Bull grins. “I’d hate to abandon a debt,” he agrees.

Dorian settles back down on his stomach, quirking his ass invitingly. “You may continue,” he sighs.

Laughing, Bull goes ahead and stands up, coming around to the foot of the bed. He grabs Dorian's thighs and pulls him closer. “Anything in particular you’d like me to pay attention to, messere?”

Dorian arches his ass up, thighs spread wide. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. My skin is a bit dry - this Southern air is so cold. Be sure to use plenty of oil.”

Bull’s starting to like this game. He’s starting to like it a lot. “As you say.” He pours the oil directly on the crack of Dorian's ass, watching it drip down his balls in one direction and pool in the small of his back in the other.

He uses his thumbs to spread the liquid from Dorian's cleft outward to the globes of his ass, making sure to just lightly press on Dorian's hole as he does so. Bull smiles to hear Dorian gasp, and then grins at the man’s disappointed squawk when Bull goes on to actually massage his glutes.

“Dorian, your ass is perfect,” Bull says. And it is. Damn, he could spend all day like this, kneading and rubbing the flesh under his hands. He does a quick once over on Dorian's thighs too, just in case there’s some tension there. Wouldn’t be so great to get a leg cramp in the middle of all this.

But then it’s back to that perfect ass. Dorian's not presenting anymore, just laying there and enjoying it. He’s got his head resting on crossed arms, turned to the side so Bull can see his expression. His eyes are closed and he’s got this blissful smile on his face.

Bull starts to swipe his thumbs closer and closer towards Dorian's crease, and the man’s smile hitches into something less blissful and far more dirty. He shifts, spreading his thighs open again, humming in contentment.

Most of the oil has been spread over Dorian's skin by now, so Bull pulls away to grab the bottle. Dorian makes a little mewl of discontentment, opening one eye.

“Just getting you oiled up,” Bull says. “Don’t want that delicate skin to dry out.”

Dorian closes his eyes again, nodding. “Good,” he says, going for that imperious snotty tone. Doesn’t quite hit the mark though, his voice going breathless as Bull rubs his forefinger just lightly on his hole.

“Yeah? Good?” Bull asks.

“Yes,” Dorian replies, trying his best not to sound frantic. “Yes, that's good.”

Bull presses a bit firmer, making circles around the band of muscle, but not trying to push inside. “How’s this?”

“Oh. Oh. Good. That's -- that's good.” Dorian's hips are hitching off the bed, pressing up against Bull.

“You want a little more?”

“Mm, yes. I want more, give me mo-” The word becomes a moan as Bull pushes in up to his second knuckle.

Bull’s cock is aching by now, tenting his pants. He gives himself a few strokes through the fabric with his free hand, just to take the edge off. “Fuck, you feel good. So tight and hot. Damn.” Bull grunts, tearing his hand away from his dick before he loses the ability to stop himself.

Dorian's eyes are open, watching him. He doesn’t stop fucking himself on Bull’s hand; if anything, he does it harder. “More,” he demands.

Bull isn’t sure exactly what he means, but he can guess. He adds his middle finger, shoving it into Dorian's ass.

He guessed right, because Dorian's eyes screw shut. He’s on his elbows and knees now, rocking back against Bull. He’s grunting with each thrust, mouth open, head hanging loose on his shoulders.

Bull crooks his fingers, just so. Dorian's head snaps up, eyes wide. His hips aren’t bucking so much as shuddering. “There! Oh, fuck, Bull -- there!” A couple seconds later his whole body shakes. A couple of drops of come drip on to the bed, but not a lot. Dorian's still panting as he pulls away from Bull, his cock still, amazingly, stiff.

Bull doesn’t remember the last time he was with someone with such a level of control over their orgasms before. But it apparently comes at a price. Dorian tries to turn on the bed, but he’s clumsy now, toppling as he reaches for Bull. He manages to tug the fabric of Bull’s trousers. “Bed,” he mumbles.

Takes Bull about a second to rip his own pants off. He’s not quite sure what Dorian wants him to do. The game seems to be slipping from the mage’s grasp. Bull tries to stretch over top of him, but Dorian squirms, shaking his head. “No, not like - here,” Dorian mutters.

After a moment Bull is on his back, Dorian splayed on top of him. The game is definitely over; Dorian is almost drunk with lust, moving restlessly, sliding lips and hands over every inch of Bull he can reach, like he can’t get enough. He’s even rubbing the tops of his feet against Bull’s calves.

This, at last, is what Bull had hoped for all along. To let Dorian get his fill of skin, of touch. Yeah his own cock is leaking and throbbing, but he can wait. It’s worth it to see Dorian with all his walls down, unguarded. Bull hopes he won’t regret it later.

Before he can get too mired down in thoughts of the future, Dorian finds the oil bottle. He smears whatever’s left on their cocks before wrapping himself around Bull’s body once more. Now, though, his movements have purpose. He’s got his arms wrapped around Bull’s shoulders, and they’re face to face.

Bull doesn’t even think -- he just tips his head up and kisses him. Dorian yelps in surprise, but doesn’t move away. He melts into it, hot and open and sloppy, and begins to rut against Bull.

Bull moves too, grinding up against him. Their cocks are sliding against each other and fuck it feels good. Neither can manage the kiss, they just breathe into each other’s mouths, lips brushing.

“Want to -” Dorian moans. “Bull. Want to -”

“Yeah. Fuck. Yes.” Bull grabs Dorian's ass, pressing him harder against his body.

“So close,” Dorian whines. “Bull.”

“What do you need, baby? Tell me. Give you everything you want.” Bull’s riding the edge now.

“Is - is it good?” Dorian can barely get the words out.

For an instant, Bull’s blood turns to ice in his veins, hearing the raw need in Dorian's voice. The game makes sense now: play at being worshipped, because even fake approval is better than none. He swallows hard. The words come easy, no need to lie. “Yes, baby. It’s so good, you feel so good, so perfect. So beautiful, feeling you like this. So good, you’re gonna make me come, baby, so so fucking good. That's it, beautiful, come for me, please. Oh, fuck, that's it, baby, can feel you getting close, feel it in your ass, fuck. So good. Dorian. Fuck - I’m -” Bull groans, hips jerking as he comes.

Dorian whines, his body juddering. Bull feels the twitches of his cock against his own stomach, and then Dorian goes boneless.

Definitely the most intense sex Bull has had in a long while. He wraps his arms around Dorian's back, the mage’s face buried in the crook of Bull’s neck. It feels real good, and Bull’s in no hurry for him to get up and leave.

After a minute though, he has to say something. “What’re you thinking?”

“How did you know I was thinking?”

“Your eyelashes are moving around -- I can feel it. If you were resting they wouldn’t be moving,” Bull points out.

Dorian huffs. “Is this what I get for sleeping with a Ben-Hassrath?”

“Yeah,” Bull laughs. “You get three orgasms and concern. That a problem?”

Weakly, Dorian begins to laugh. “Well it’s setting the bar a bit high,” he points out, pushing himself up.

Once Bull sees his face, he relaxes. The walls are back, but without the self-loathing. “Oh, there’s a bar now? This mean I get an encore?”

“Perhaps,” Dorian grins. “I’ll see what I can do. These Southern rules do have an appeal, I must say.”

“We didn’t even open the second bottle of wine,” Bull points out. “I’ll save it. Just in case.”

Dorian's eyes soften, but then the playful glint comes back. “Make sure to store it properly, on its side. I won’t stand for corked wine,” he says, pulling on his trousers.

“You got it,” Bull promises.

Dorian's at the door now. “I’ll... see you around, then?”

“See you around,” Bull says, smiling, before the door closes.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] For the Love of (Touch)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13441242) by [BabelGhoti (TheHandmadeTale)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHandmadeTale/pseuds/BabelGhoti)




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